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WE few, we happy few, we band of brothers.

Shakspere. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur?

Shakspere. 1.-Why give you me this shame? Think you I can a resolution fetch From flow'ry tenderness? If I must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride, And hug it in my

2.—There spake my brother; there


grave Did utter forth a voice.


These two are brethren, Adam, and to come
Out of thy loins.

Was ever such a brother?
Turn over all the stories of the world,
And search through all the memories of mankind,
And find me such a friend. It has outdone all,
Outstripped 'em sheerly. * * To die for me!
In all the blossoms of his youth and beauty,
In all the fullness of his veins and wishes,
Wooed by that paradise that would catch heaven!
It startles one extremely! Thou blest ashes,
Thou faithful monument, where love and friendship
Shall, while the world is, work new miracles.

Beaumont and Fletcher. 1.-He is my brother.

2.—The more doubted; For hatred hatched at home is a tame tiger, May fawn and sport, but never leave his nature. The jars of brothers, two such mighty ones, Are like a small stone thrown into a river, The breach scarce heard; but view the beaten current, And you shall see a thousand angry rings Rise in his face, still swelling and still growing; So jars circle in distrusts; distrusts breed dangers, And dangers death (the greatest extreme) shadow, Till nothing bound 'em but the shore—their graves.

Beaumont and Fletcher.

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Assailed by scandal and the tongue of strife,
His only answer was a blameless life;
And he that forged, and he that threw the dart,
Had each a brother's interest in his heart.

Though more our money than our cause,
Their brotherly assistance draws.

Children are we all
Of one great Father, in whatever clime
His providence hath cast the seed of life,
All tongues—all colours. Neither after death
Shall we be sorted into languages
And tints-black, white, and tawny, Greek and Goth,
Northmen, and offspring of hot Africa,
The all-seeing Father,—He in whom we live and

He, the impartial judge of all-regards
Nations, and hues, and dialects alike.
According to their works shall they be judged,
When even-handed Justice, in the scale,
Their good and evil weighs.


Then gently scan thy brother man.

Burns. A happy bit hame this auld warld wad be, If men, whan they're here, would make shift to agree, And ilk said to his neebor in cottage an' ha', “Come gie me your hand, we are brethren a'.”

Robert Nicol. I care not whence come you, or where you may dwell,

In the east or the west, or the south, or the north; Be thy skin of the darkest, thy home in the fell,

I care not, I only know manhood and worth; Then thy hand, brother man, and oh, let us prove, Whose heart is the strongest in brotherly love.

J. B. Syme.
My boyish days are nearly gone,

My breast is not unsullied now,
And worldly cares and woes will soon

Cut their deep furrows on my brow:


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And life will take a darker liue,
From ills my brother never knew.
And I have made me bosom friends,

And bound and linked my heart with others;
But who with mine his spirit blends,

As mine was blended with my brother's?
When years of rapture glided by,

The spring of life's unclouded weather,
Our souls were knit; and thou and I,

My brother, grew in love together:
The chain is broke that bound us then,
When shall I find its like again? J. Moultrie.

1.—Methinks was never pair So linked in love as we are! We should have been

brothers! 2.-And we are so!-are we not? The worth of birth is but the right to love. We love as well as brothers, do we not, Without that right?--what are we then but brothers? Come you to flesh and bloodP—as all mankind Had but one parentage, in the great first, All flesh and blood are one! Sheridan Knowles.

A brother! Oh, that thrilling name,
It vibrates through my very frame,
Thou Queen of boyhood's cloudless day!
In studious bowers though far away,
Thy heart is haunted with a sense
Of all a brother's charms dispense:
His picture on the bed-room wall,
How frequently its lines recall
The imperial face, the manly brow,
The eyes that dared the soul avow;
The soul that knew no mean eclipse,
But ever round those graceful lips
In brightest welcome played for thee,
In moods of unaffected glee.

R. Montgomery.

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BROW. Thou fair star, that I live by, Look lovely on me, break into full brightness! Look! here's a face now of another making, Another mould; here's a divine proportion! Eyes, fit for Phæbus' self, to gild the world with, And there's a brow arch'd like the state of heaven; Look, how it bends, and with what radiance; As if the synod of the gods sat under! Look there and wonder. Beaumont and Fletcher.

In her face, Though something touched by sorrow, you may trace The all she was, when first in life's young spring, Like the gay bee-bird on delighted wing, She stooped to cull the honey from each flower That bares its breast in joy’s luxuriant bower! O'er her pure forehead, pale as moonlit snow, Her ebon locks are parted; and her brow Stands forth like morning from the shades of night, Serene, though clouds hang over it.

Alaric A. Watts.

OSIRIS, Isis, Orus, and the train,
With monstrous shapes and sorceries abound;
Fanatic Egypt and her priests, to seek
Their wandering gods disguised in brutish forms.

Milton. Then to subdue and quell through all the earth Brute violence, and proud tyrannic power.

Milton. The brute philosopher, who ne'er has proved The joy of loving, or of being loved.

Pope. Contented with an humble theme, I pour my stream of panegyric down The vale of Nature, where it creeps and winds Among her lovely works with a secure And unambitious course reflecting clear, If not the virtues, yet the worth of brutes.Cowper.

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GIVE me leave to wonder, A building of so goodly a proportion, Outwardly all exact, the frame of heaven, Should hide within so base inhabitants. You are as fair as if the morning bore you; Imagination never made a sweeter! Can it be possible this frame should suffer, And built on slight affections, fright the viewer? Be excellent in all, as you are outward, The worthy mistress of these many blessings Heaven has bestowed. Beaumont and Fletcher.

Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, flies;
Choose this face changed by no deformities.


But fore-accounting oft makes builders miss;
They found, they felt, they had no lease of bliss.

Sir P. Sidney.
To build, to plant whatever you intend,
To rear the column, and the arch to bend.

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Her wings with lengthened honour let her spread, And by her greatness show her builder's fame.Pope.

Here the architect
Did not with curious skill a pile erect
Of carved marble, touch, or porphyry,
But built a house for hospitality;
No sumptuous chimney-piece of shining stone
Invites the stranger's eye to gaze upon,
And coldly entertain his sight, but clear
And cheerful flames cherish and warm him here.

Carew. View not this spire by measure given

To buildings raised by common hands:
That fabric rises high to heaven,
Whose basis on devotion stands.


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